Page 20 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

To say she was unexpected would be an understatement. When The Colonel told him he’d be going to Montana, he hadn’t cared enough to pay attention. He was fleeing for his life, after all, with only the shirt on his back. If not for American Military Intelligence, he would be dead by now, probably several times over. They’d intervened on his behalf multiple times over the years, taking care of situations and arranging them so the outcome landed in his favor, albeit quietly. There had been a lot of coincidences in his world, thankfully not enough that anyone on the wrong side noticed. But if he had stayed, they probably would have. Sam had already survived too long in a world with a predictably short lifespan. Eventually someone would havestarted to talk and wonder why Din Chatti seemed to be made of Teflon, never in trouble, never in danger, always escaping harm at the last possible moment and in the most amazing way.

As ever, Sam felt a mixture of gratitude and resentment. Grateful that he’d been kept alive, resentful that he had to rely on the man who held his former love. The Colonel might be the main man in charge, but without a doubt it was Cameron Ridge who’d kept a particular eye on Sam the past few years, sending teams to pull him out of various scrapes. His only comfort was that Ridge likely resented it as much as Sam did. Not that Ridge wanted to see him dead. Or maybe he did, who knew? Sam didn’t want Ridge dead. He just wanted him to never have existed to begin with, to magically erase him from the earth and Maggie’s heart forever.

Unable to sleep now, his thoughts strayed toward Celeste. And such was his psychic misery over his own sad life that he was happier to think about hers. To say she was unexpected would be an understatement. After he safely arrived in Canada and made contact with the team, he found out he’d be staying with a woman, a former contractor for The Colonel. Sam had pictured someone old and stodgy, a weathered matron whose voice was as hardscrabble as her face. Instead he found Celeste. His first view of her hadn’t left an impression, half delirious as he was with pain and blood loss. But then as he sat against the wall of the kitchen and tried to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder, he listened to her descend the stairs and braced himself, certain she would put him on blast for bumbling into her house in the middle of the night.

Instead she had eased into the room looking small and vulnerable, a skittish bunny with big eyes and small features.There is no way this woman worked for The Colonel,he thought. Perhaps she was some far-flung family member and he’d been mistaken. His interactions with her since had donenothing to clear up the confusion. He stared at her whenever she wasn’t looking, trying to solve the mystery. The more he looked, the more he liked what he saw. There was something so…soft about her when she wasn’t aware she was being watched. She examined each thing she found as if she’d never noticed it before, as with the pie. Certainly she’d had pie. He’d lived in Saudi Arabia for most of his adult life, and even he’d had pie.

He began to think maybe The Colonel had stashed her here to keep her safe for some reason. If the way she recoiled from any physical contact was any indication, perhaps she’d been hurt. If so, that person should be killed in some heinous fashion. How could anyone wound someone as small and helpless as Celeste? It was unfathomable.

I want her to trust me,he thought and then immediately banished it. There was no reason anyone should trust him ever again. In fact there was every reason in the world not to trust him after the things he’d done, the lies he told. He’d faked his own death to get out of his wedding, after all, eviscerating the person in the world he loved most, the person who thought he was trustworthy enough to pledge her life to. He only wanted to bestow friendship and kindness on Celeste, and yet even that was beyond his reach. He had nothing to give anyone, least of all someone as pure and deserving as Celeste, who seemed to be doing her best to care for him despite recovering from whatever she’d been sent here to recover from. He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was something. He of all people recognized the signs of trauma and Celeste had it in spades. It made him angry on her behalf, whatever it was.

His eyes strayed to the bookshelf and the notebook she’d put back. It was obviously her journal. His fingers itched to reach for it, but he couldn’t,wouldn’t.It would be a terrible invasion of privacy. He knew that, and yet he longed to solve the mystery that must lie within. Who was Celeste? Why was she here? Howhad someone so delicate, so vulnerable and innocent wound up alone in the wilderness of Montana?

Sleep stole over him again. He closed his eyes and vowed to solve the mystery another day. Soon, sometime soon he would figure her out.

Chapter 14

Once again something woke Celeste. She sat up from a dead sleep with a sharp intake of breath. As before, something was off. This time it wasn’t a sound, it was something else. But what?

Her teeth chattered and she glanced at the now blank alarm clock.Power’s out.Groggy and freezing, she stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, trailing her hand on the banister so she didn’t topple. Strange how much ambient light things like appliances gave off. Now, with nothing on, it was all inky blackness. She couldn’t see a thing, not the stairs, not even her feet.

She knew by counting how many stairs there were, and she knew when she reached the bottom. Even so she paused, taking stock of the stillness. It was disconcerting how quiet it was without the usual hum of the house.

“Celeste,” Sam whispered, his slight accent making her name into a question.

“Yes.”

“Are you all right?”

Her lashes fluttered. When was the last time anyone asked her that question? She couldn’t remember. “I’m fine. The power’s out.” She started to take a step and paused, remembering she should also check on him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding amused. Why, she had no idea.

“I’m going to light the heater.” She tried to say it with confidence. Elliot had shown her how, it shouldn’t be a problem. But so far everything in Paradise had been a problem. The house and barn were decrepit, the trees apparently sterile, the equipment unusable. Why should the heater be any different?

It was, though. As soon as she knelt beside it and clicked the button, the flame flicked to life and began to give out blessed heat. Enraptured, she plopped onto the floor in front of it and stared. A minute later, Sam meandered in and gingerly sat beside her, trailing one of the blankets from his makeshift bed on the couch.

“I have made fire,” she announced.

He laughed and offered her half of his blanket. “You are very talented.”

She stared at the blanket, pondering. Sharing his proximity, let alone his blanket, was an intimate thing. She must have hesitated too long because his hand tensed as he held it toward her.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, tone soft.

“No, I know. I’m not worried about that.” Finally she took the blanket and eased a tiny bit closer, basking in the warmth from his body without letting on that she was enjoying it. A flame was nice; body heat was better.

“You should be. I’m much bigger than you,” he said, then looked at her askance when she snorted a laugh.

“Sorry, I, uh, am pretty good at taking care of myself,” she assured him.

“I suppose if you worked for The Colonel that is probably true, but it’s hard to believe, given your high level of adorability.”

She smiled a little, staring at the flame. It had been a long time since someone complimented her on her looks, if one considered being called adorable a compliment. Celeste did because she’d been called so many worse things. “That’s part of what made me a danger. No one expects someone who looks like me to be able to…” she broke off, realizing how easily he’d gotten her to open up and talk about her job.Danger, danger, danger.Not only was her life classified, it was fully her own. Information was power. Giving it away put her at his mercy.

“I suppose,” he said agreeably and she relaxed because he didn’t probe further. “This is rather cozy, with the fire and the snow. How long do you suppose the power will be away?”

“I don’t know. People in town made it seem like it could be a while. I have enough kerosene for a few days, and enough food as well. After that…” After that she had no idea. This was her first Montana winter. Learning by doing probably wasn’t the best way with something that could kill you with frostbite or starvation, but she saw no other alternative.

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